


Ten minutes can't go past without you brushing my thoughts

by baetakids



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Character Death, Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I thought about Tony being his dad and made my heart palpitations worse., Infinity War broke my entire heart, Parent Tony Stark, Son Peter Park, dad tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 08:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14468454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baetakids/pseuds/baetakids
Summary: Major Infinity War spoilers.He holds him close, sobbing as he feels the warmth dematerializing from his palms.Peter’s teary doe eyes look into his and Tony’s heart skips a beat. “I’m sorry.”He’s sorry?The look haunts him when he sleeps at night, haunts him in the way he stirs as he slumbers.





	Ten minutes can't go past without you brushing my thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers ahead.

He sees the telltale signs before his kid does. He sees the subtle tremble of his weak knees, the way Peter looks almost too small for his own suit, shuddering with the fervor of a man on his deathbed. How he seems to collapse in on himself, choking on dust-clogged air as they watch the Guardians dissipate.

Later, he knows, part of him _just knows_ Peter knew. Knew from the moment his body went cold all over, warning him of imminent danger, a threat he couldn’t stop.

 Tony couldn’t stop it.

  _He couldn’t stop it._

_"_ _You know,” the woman eyes him from behind her imposing desk, far too immaculate to be of any rewarding comfort. Far too groomed, her stack of papers meticulously clipped together. “It wasn’t your fault.”_

  _Her eyes regard him with another story, thinly veiled scrutiny behind the lenses of her glasses. She doesn’t say it outright, but he wasn’t naive. Tony saw it in the way she tapped her manicured nail against the desk, drumming with an almost lethargic sentiment. Saw it in the way her eyebrow creased just so. He saw it every week and endured, hoping maybe, just_ maybe, _the burden would get_ better.

  _“You say that every week,” he counters. He can’t bring himself to speak another word. His head pulses, a radiating wave of nausea settled in the pit of his stomach._

  _“And every week you talk about your son,” a thinly clipped phrase, a monotonous undertone of boredom._

  _And he loses it. Tony slams a chair to the ground on his right. The impact makes a shrill sound, amplified by the sheer emptiness of the office._

  _He should’ve known from week one, where she regarded him with disgust as she scanned over his name on her clipboard. She had said it with a blatant undertone of loathing._

  _“We all lose someone, Mr. Stark,” she calls out to him as he leaves her office. He would call her words a shocking revelation, but he can’t say he doesn’t see her scrutiny everywhere he walks. He slumps down in the waiting room, ticking clock an agonizing noise as he clutches his head in his hands. He can’t help but contemplate the confrontation with the woman after his MIT speech, the manner in which her eyes bore into his, grief turned into anger._

 ' _You murdered my son.’_

 ' _And I blame you.’_

 Peter staggers, fumbling forward as he makes a sound of gagging, his suit suddenly too warm. Titan’s air seems to strangle him, suffocating him with billows of ash.

 “D-dad-” he calls out, retching the invisible contents of his stomach in dry heaves. “I-I don’t. . . I don’t feel so good.”

 His lithe arms wrap around his torso, clutching himself, holding on for dear life. His son lurches forward, arms wrapping around Tony with frightening urgency, clutching the remnants of his hoodie.

 And he holds him, his own trembling arms embracing him in blind reassurance. _He knows. He knows._ Tony can’t change fate, and it eats away at him with every false platitude of reassurance he offers his dying child.

“You’re alright,” he firmly responds, feigning confidence as his voice threatens to quiver. He repeats himself, a selfish act, an attempt to convince himself of the evident truth. “You’re alright.”  

He sees it in the way Peter starts sobbing, the hitched breath and strained breathing. He’s seen it a million times in himself. “I- I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening,” tears staining Tony’s neck as he buries his face into his neck, whimpers shaking his body. _“I don’t wanna go, Dad, please, I don’t- I don’t wanna go.”_

They collapse to the ground, Peter’s legs transforming into a cascading cloud of ash around them. Tony hugs him, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple as Peter begs, bargaining with him, his voice filled with childish uncertainty.

He holds him close, sobbing as he feels the warmth dematerializing from his palms.

Peter’s teary doe eyes look into his and Tony’s heart skips a beat. “I’m sorry.”

_He’s sorry?_

_The look haunts him when he sleeps at night, haunts him in the way he stirs as he slumbers._

He disappears in a plume of dust and smoke, no grandiose display of rising action. The way the dust settles into Titan’s earth is almost too placid, too quiet for Tony to accept. He’s too stunned, petrified grief in his chest.

_‘That dust is my son.’_

He lets out a sob of contrition, a sound of cacophonous agony ringing through the decimated ruins of Titan as his tears fall to the ground.

His son’s broken sobs of remorse ring in his ears.

_‘I blame you.’_

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that someone fainted at Infinity War is such a big mood I was severely dehydrated after I left the theater and all I feel is hatred. I'm gonna punch the writers in their faces.


End file.
